Killing Riddle
by MyImmortalMajor
Summary: Voldemort approsched the Riddle House, the stolen wand clenched tightly in his fist. This is what happened when Voldemort killed his family. R&R please.


**Helloo people. I know I should be updating The Helper, but I just had to write this because it has been bugging me for ages. Hope you like. BTW Tom Riddle Senior=Voldys's grandfather. Tom Riddle=Voldys father. Amelia Riddle=Voldys grandma. Although most people will have known Voldy as Tom Riddle, I think it's confusing if there are 3 Tom's. Did I even get that right? Idk, tell me if I got it wrong in a ****_review._ **

He approached the Riddle House, the stolen wand clenched tightly in his fist. Soon, it will be complete, he thought. He will have accomplished what he came for. The first step towards total immortality, and the death of that muggle filth his pure blood mother loved. Death was all love could get you.

The first sight of the house startled Voldemort, and a pang of uneasiness hit his stomach. He pushed it away. Why should he turn back now? He had planned this months ago. Plus, his father deserves what's coming to him. He left her. He killed her.

As Voldemort walked up the final steps to the Riddle House and forced that last seed of doubt from his mind and replaced it with determination. The door opened silently, showing a hallway that was seeped in wealth. Paintings hung on the wall, showing generations of Riddles', deep blood red carpets covered the stairs and a glowing chandelier lit up the entry way. He could hear the maid bustling upstairs as well as the laughter and talk of a family during dinner. "Alohamora!" he whispered and the door separating him and the voices opened silently. He closed the door behind him and made it inpurtabule, so as not to let anyone else hear what was happening.

At the table in front of him, sat a young handsome man. The kind of man that the women in the village fawned over. The man's parents sat beside him looking like lords and ladies in a palace. The mothers' grey streaked hair was perfectly in place and her antique jewellery sparkled by the light of the candles that sat upon the table. The fathers suit was crisp and smart, his hair was the straightest part there ever was, and a thin, fine moustache sat on his top lip.

"Good evening," Voldemort said quietly. His father and grandparents heads whipped around to see who had gotten in, unnoticed, through their locked door. Tom Riddles' eyes widened as he saw Voldemort, and recognised the resemblance. "My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle and I am, as one of you will know, you're son and grandson."

"Wh-what do you want?" Tom Riddle asked as his eyes fell upon the wand in his sons' hand. Merope must have been telling the truth, he thought. She had been pregnant.

"Oh, I'm just here to do a few thing," Voldemort said offhandedly. "Meet the family."

"Who is this, son?" asked his grandfather.

"Is it that Gaunt girls child? She was pregnant?" Amelia Riddle spoke Voldemort's mothers name with a contempt in her voice.

"Merope Gaunt was my mother," Voldemort said, keeping his voice quiet and yet you caught every word. "She died giving birth to me. I grew up in an orphanage."

His father cleared his throat. "Oh, well, um, I-I'm very sorry to hear that-"

Voldemort cut him off with a high, cold laugh. "No you're not. You despised my mother because she was a witch. You left her when she was pregnant. You are the reason she is dead. You are the reason I had to grow up in a filthy muggle orphanage. Because of you!"

"What do you want from me?" his father asked, eyes pleading.

"To make you suffer of course," he replied simply. Then, pointing his wand at Tom Riddle Senior, he said "Avada Kerdavra!" With a flash of green light, Voldemorts' grandfather lived no more.

"Dad!" Tom wailed. His eyes looked wildly from his now dead father to his son, wondering if he would get the same treatment.

"Tom! Tom, please," Amelia tried to go to her husband, but found she couldn't move from her chair. All she could do was sit and sob.

"Okay, you've done it." Tom said despairingly. "You've made me suffer. You've killed my father! Please, please leave us alone."

"Not yet," Voldemort spat, his voice filled with malice while he smiled evilly. "You haven't suffered nearly enough. Crucio!" Amelia's shreiks tore at her son's heart.

"Stop it! Stop it_ please_!" Tom begged.

Voldemort laughed. This was necessary. This was revenge. "Maybe a little bit more. Crucio!"

"Please," Amelia cried. Her bones were on fire. Here blood was an acid, flowing around her body and replacing everything it came in contact with into pain. And with a green light, the pain was gone. Gone, like her life.

Tom Riddle was crying now. _Pathetic,_ Voldemort thought. "You shouldn't be sad," he said. "Their deaths, and yours of course, will help me. You see, because of your deaths, I will be immortal."

The wimpering man barely had time to utter out "Wh-what?" before the green light killed him as well.

Voldemort took out his diary that had been dunked in the dark potion the night before. "Imprintus Esthernia!" he said. A black glow emitted from his wand and he felt a flowing sensation throughout his body. It was complete.

He returned to Morphins' Shack and modified the tramps, giving him a fake description of what happened, before setting off. That day he gave up half his soul, and with it, any hope of redemption.

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**What do you think. I know it's a little bit different. **_**Review**_** and let me know. :D Please**

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